


Company

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, BDSM club AU, Dom John, Happy Ending, M/M, NO rape, Soft Dom John, Sub Sherlock Holmes, mentions of previous bad D/s relationship, mentions of previous non-con humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock goes under cover to suss out an embezzler at a BDSM club. His past is marred by an ex-boyfriend who verbally abused him under the guise of a D/s relationship. What he thinks he needs is a little different than what he needs.</p><p>Luckily he's placed with someone who can see how fragile he is, Dom John Watson. </p><p>Once the case is over he realises how much he's going to miss the man. Damn.</p><p>For therealmartinsgrrrl.tumblr.com who posted "Soft Dom John. *looks dreamily into the distance*"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I want to make it very clear that humiliation during sex is perfectly fine as long as both parties are into it. In this story the humiliation doesn't work because Sherlock is a sweet little flower that is too fragile to take it. 
> 
> Be safe. Ask for consent. Don't stop asking for consent. Protect yourself. No one is ever worth you being taken advantage of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank DaringD for helping me edit this chapter. Her keen eye helped me settle my issue with commas. Hopefully I will get over the teacher I had that told me to put either a 'but' or a comma, but not both.

There had been a point where it had gone over the line. They both knew that. Sherlock had always been turned on by pain and being pushed around a bit, but the humiliation took it too far. Of course, Victor was too angry at Sherlock at the time to see that, a huge red flag on its own, so it had continued.

If asked why he put up with the humiliation, Sherlock would have died on the spot, his unwillingness to speak about their arrangement so firmly seated that he would literally rather die than admit what he wanted and didn't want. Lack of communication was another red flag. 

If you looked inside his brain you would find that the reason he never spoke up, the reason he never safe-worded, was that he thought Victor was right. After all, who hated Sherlock Holmes more than himself?

They had been to a play and Sherlock had embarrassed Victor by spouting off the identity of the killer before it had been shown onstage. Anyone who does BDSM correctly would know not to start a scene when angry. Victor didn't see it as an issue. Instead he saw it as a chance to get out the grievance. Because, hell, if Sherlock liked to be slapped around he must get off on being verbally abused, right?

Wrong. So very, very wrong.

So for almost a year, before it pushed Sherlock to use again and Victor disappeared while he was in rehab, Sherlock was in a bad D/s relationship. They were fine out of bed, bickering every once in a while but not too badly, but in bed it was a different story. The first night that Victor called Sherlock a show off was while he was also doing some impact play. It wasn't said with anything but disdain.

For years after, Sherlock's brain would echo Victor's unkind words, unannounced, and make him cringe. 

_____

It took Sherlock five years to attempt that sort of relationship again. He'd pushed his own needs down for so long that when he had the chance to go undercover in a BDSM club he was itching for days beforehand. Even if it was just for one scene he would be happy. Well, satisfied.  
It didn't occur to him that perhaps he wasn't healed enough emotionally for it. That made a sort of sense though, as his family had never been one to champion working through your issues.

_____

He'd filled out the paperwork with a woman up front, something he felt a little odd about, and tried to be cordial as she watched him do so. He hadn't expected to have to write down his preferences and even just ticking the small boxes made him unnerved.

He was intimidated. He couldn't admit that to himself but it was obvious. He was waiting at the bar for some large man with bulging muscles and a shirt made of leather straps and he was nearly shaking in his shoes.

Victor was slight. He'd been smaller than Sherlock in weight and height. In comparison, the men Sherlock had walked by to get to the bar were massive. There were several scenes going on in the main room and the Doms all seemed to be frighteningly masculine, even the women. Perhaps the word was aggressive. He wasn't sure how to feel about it.

He sipped his drink as, unbeknownst to him, the woman from the front spoke with one of her employees. She was a sort of matchmaker, the person who said which client got which employee. She was brilliant and could tell the employee exactly what Sherlock's story was, including that he was there undercover, but she didn't necessarily need to. Not for this one.

"John," she said into the intercom, sitting back and watching Sherlock from afar.

One of her best employees came out of the back room and took a seat across from her. He was not a heavily muscled, leather clad monster. He was a clean cut, ex-military, ex-Doctor with a bedside manner suited for the most fragile of clients. He was unobtrusive and gentle while still being obviously in command. He was her pet project and the only man in the building she would truly trust with her life.

"Madam Irene," John said, drying his hands on a small flannel and checking what was in her line of sight.

"First timer. Possible heroin addict. Not currently using," she said. "Kid gloves."

John nodded and left to get his things together. 

_____

Sherlock was nervous. He was given a number and was told to wait at the bar until he was called. That was fifteen minutes prior and he'd finished his first drink and had a second in hand. He couldn't seem to take a sip.

He cringed when a man sat down next to him. The man was probably another client; his short hair was combed perfectly, and he was wearing a dark blue button down shirt and dark slacks. He was handsome, but not the type to be a Dom at this sort of place. Obviously. Sherlock looked away from him and back into his drink.

"I'm John," the man said. "You look uncomfortable."

"Wrong. I'm not uncomfortable. I'm irritated," Sherlock spat.

"Irritated?" John asked, raising a finger to the barkeep and getting a glass of seltzer water passed over.

Sherlock took note and turned to look him up and down. "May I borrow your mobile? Mine has died."

John reached into his pocket and passed it over, watching Sherlock's face carefully. It was against policy to let a client use your mobile, but John was rather playing this by ear.

"Seltzer," Sherlock said, passing the phone back over after typing out and sending a text. "Family history of alcoholism, I'd wager. Afraid to have a drink even in these circumstances."

John smiled in amazement and slipped the phone back into his pocket. "You're right about the family history."

Sherlock looked up at that and frowned. He'd got something wrong.

"But I'm having a seltzer now because I'm on the clock," John said, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip.

"On the clock?" Sherlock asked, looking John up and down as if he might change right before his eyes.

"Yes. I'll be your Dom for the evening," John explained.

"You?" Sherlock sputtered. "But you're..."

"Not what you expected?" John asked with a soft smile.

Sherlock cleared his throat and looked back into his drink, lifting it up off the bar top. John stopped him with a hand on his wrist and shook his head.

"I think one's enough. I'll comp the cost. Let's find our room, shall we?" 

Sherlock set the glass down, watching John rise from his seat and start down a dark hallway. He followed after a second and caught up just as John opened the door to a small room with a king sized bed in one corner, a table and sink in the other, and low lights. John gestured him inside and Sherlock sat awkwardly on the bed.

"You're not what I pictured," he admitted, mouth dry.

"What is it that you pictured?" John asked, going to the bedside table and pulling a small black box from beneath it.

"Someone from a motorcycle club," Sherlock admitted.

John smiled and sat across from the bed on the only chair, box in his lap. "We come in all shapes and sizes, I can assure you. Now, should we go over what you'd like to get out of this?"

Sherlock's eyebrows drew together and he crossed his legs, arousal flowing through him now that he knew it would actually begin. "I filled out the paperwork," he said, not wishing to say anything about his needs aloud.

"That you did," John replied, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "It says you like impact play. Would you be interested in spanking?"

Sherlock swallowed roughly and averted his eyes, a flush moving up his neck.

"You'll have to say yes or no," John pressed. "It's policy."

"Yes," Sherlock croaked.

"Alright. Safe words are the usual; green is go, yellow is slow down, and red is stop. No questions asked," John explained. "We won't be doing anything penetrative tonight, as it's your first time, but I promise you'll enjoy yourself. Why don't you disrobe?"

"A-are you going to, um, also..." Sherlock asked, fingers fiddling with the first button.

"I'll stay clothed," John said setting the box on the table and opening it.

Sherlock stood and started to strip, feeling the tension in the room jump as he did so. He was starting on the button of his trousers when John stood and came up behind him.

"I'm going to touch you now," John whispered.

Sherlock nodded and then whispered back. "Green."

"Good," John said, the warmth in his voice soothing Sherlock.

Sherlock's hands stilled on his zip as John pressed himself to Sherlock's back and ran his hands up to his chest. The smooth cotton of his shirt tickled Sherlock's skin and Sherlock found himself growing hard quickly. The first press of John's lips to his shoulder had him shaking. If it weren't for John's quick actions he would have wound up on the floor.

"Sit on the bed for me," John said, helping Sherlock to do so. "Good, now take off your trousers and pants for me. You're doing so well."

"I'm not doing well," Sherlock huffed. 

John pulled Sherlock's chin up and looked him in the eyes. "You're not to speak ill of yourself, do you understand?"

Sherlock nodded and then squeaked when John's grip grew tight. "Yes!"

"Good," John purred. "I'm in charge here, and if I say you're doing well then you're doing well. You'll get ten swipes the next time you disagree."

Sherlock pulled his trousers and pants down and off, pushing them and his shoes and socks under the bed, then sat still with his hands in his lap.

"Do you know how gorgeous you are?" John asked, hands running down Sherlock's shoulders. When Sherlock didn't reply he smiled and went on. "You can answer that truthfully. A 'yes, John' or 'no, John' will do."

"No, John," Sherlock whimpered, hating his own voice for wavering so.

"That's okay," John soothed, fingers going to trace Sherlock's lips, "I'll show you."

Sherlock nodded and let out a shaky breath as John pressed a thumb into his mouth.

"Beautiful. Are you ready to begin?" John asked.

"Yeth, John," Sherlock slurred around John's thumb.

John chuckled and let it slip from his lips to go get a condom. Sherlock tore open the package and rolled it onto his cock and then waited.

"Hands and knees," John said. "Face away from me."

Sherlock scrambled to obey and choked on his own breath when John ran a hand down his back to cup his arse.

"Perfect. Such a gorgeous creature," John said, digging his short nails in a bit. "How many would you like? We can start with ten."

"Yes, John," Sherlock replied, eyes closing. "Please, John."

"Good, good," John murmured.

There was a quiet moment before John began, hand hitting warm skin hard. 

"Count them out for me," John urged.

"One, John!" Sherlock shouted.

"Perfect," John praised.

_____

By the time they were done with the tenth Sherlock was wriggling his bum in the air and panting. John smoothed his hands over the abused flesh and pressed up against him, smooth buttons dragging over hot skin.

"Now that you're warmed up I think we can move on to something a bit more intense. Safe word?"

"Green, John," Sherlock said, cock hanging heavy between his legs.

"How would you like it if I hit that pretty face of yours?" John asked.

Sherlock whimpered and rubbed his arse back against John, head falling forward at the thought. "Yes, John."

John stepped back and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Alright, I want you to sit on that rosy bum of yours. Edge of the bed now."

Sherlock obeyed with a wince and John reached out one hand to rub his cheek.

"It says in the paperwork you've been in a Dom/sub relationship before. Why don't you tell me everything you two did, and what else you'd like to do tonight." John said, very much not a question.

"He was, um, he was my boyfriend," Sherlock replied, eyes flitting closed as John ran a hand into his hair and pulled gently. "He liked rough sex and punishment. And, uh, humiliation. He would, uh, he would..."

"Shh," John soothed, seeing the apprehension and realising it was just as he'd suspected, an uninformed and unpracticed Dom taking advantage. "You're safe. Can you look at me?"

Sherlock slowly opened his eyes and they were watery.

"You're safe here with me. I can tell you like pain, yeah?" John said, pulling Sherlock's hair tight in his fist and eliciting a moan. "But we aren't going to do any of that other stuff. I won't humiliate you."

Sherlock looked back and forth between John's eyes. "But..I need that."

"Why?" John asked calmly. "Can you tell me why you need it?"

Sherlock's mouth opened and then closed.

"Did you like being humiliated?" John asked.

"I-I..." Sherlock stammered.

"But you like being hurt," John said when Sherlock couldn't go on.

"Yes, John," Sherlock said.

"Good, then we'll stick to what we know you like," John replied.

_____

Sherlock was shaking and whimpering when John was done with him, he'd been slapped and twisted this way and that and his cock was so hard it hurt. He could feel the bruises starting on his arm from where John was gripping him but he couldn't seem to focus attention.

"I think it's about time you get some relief," John said.

Sherlock sagged a bit and looked up at John with lidded eyes.

"I'm going to use my hand on you now. You can come when you like," John said, reaching one arm around Sherlock's neck to pull him against his chest while the other went down to close around his aching cock. "Hands around my back now, that's it."

Sherlock took John's waist in a loose hug and closed his eyes as John's fist began to stroke up and down his shaft, fingers moving slickly over the lubricated condom.

"You did so well tonight," John murmured into Sherlock's hair. "You took everything I gave you and didn't complain. You listened so well. Brilliant lad."

Sherlock's hips started to jerk and John focused on the head of his prick.

"Gorgeous lad. And you're going to come in my hand, aren't you? I'm going to pull your hair and you're going to come in my hand," John murmured, hand gripping curls again. "Mmm. You like that, don't you? Like it when I pull and make your skin sting. Doing so well. Aren't you?"

Sherlock moaned and squirmed. "Yes, John."

"Come on, gorgeous, you've earned it," John said as he quickened his strokes and pulled on Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock quivered and came, more because he was on the edge already than any request, pulsing into the condom and screaming out as he did. When he'd finally settled, John went to pull away, only to find Sherlock wouldn't let go of his waist.

"Shh," John soothed, rubbing Sherlock's back gently. "You did so well. It's all over now."

When that drew a sob from Sherlock, John leaned down and kissed his curls again before speaking.

"I want to go get a warm flannel and clean you up. I'm not leaving. Will you let me go?"

Sherlock let his arms loosen and fell onto his side on the bed, face tucked into the crook of his arm.

"Give me a few seconds," John said, turning to the small sink in the corner and getting the water warm.

When John returned to Sherlock's side with the wet cloth, the man let himself be rearranged on his back. John pulled the condom off and cleaned Sherlock's skin before tossing the condom and cloth aside and getting a small tube of ointment out of his box.

"This'll help the sting," John said. "Arse up for me, please."

Sherlock rolled over and John spread a small amount across Sherlock's arsecheeks before rubbing some into the bruises on his biceps. They were small, marks from his fingers alone, but they would be sore nonetheless.

"Would you like to get back into your clothes now or can I lay with you like this for a while?" John asked.

Sherlock rolled over and looked at him, eyes sleepy. "Lay with me?"

"We've a half hour left. We can lay down or I can bring us some tea," John explained, knowing first timers didn't often remember the drill after a session.

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded towards the pillows. John smiled at him and started to remove his shirt.

"Budge up, then. Under the covers, I think," John said, slipping out of his shirt and shoes before removing his trousers.

When he got under the covers behind Sherlock he was in his pants and Sherlock marveled at how warm he was. He wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him close, sighing against Sherlock's neck.

"That was a very good first time, don't you think?" John murmured, eyes closing as he nuzzled Sherlock's neck.

"Are you meant to be doing this?" Sherlock asked.

"I can stop if you like," John said, pulling back slightly.

"No! No, it's just, no one holds me. It seems rather intimate," Sherlock explained, feeling stupid for thinking it more intimate than John's hand on his prick.

"Well, it's comfort. Comfort can be very intimate. As long as you're fine with it I think we should carry on," John explained, his chest aching at the fact that no one had held this beautiful man. "If that's alright with you."

"Yes, John," Sherlock whispered, closing his eyes again and relaxing.

_____

It was five sessions, and hardly a week later, that Sherlock figured out who was embezzling the funds. They'd just finished with a session when the epiphany happened and John had to stop Sherlock from going to the front completely naked.

After Sherlock had dressed, he and John went to the office to speak to the owner. 

"I can't explain it now," Sherlock said, fidgeting where he stood. "But I'll figure out how to."

John watched him carefully and nodded as Irene walked out.

"I need to speak with the owner," Sherlock said, frowning as he recognised the woman he met the first night.

"That would be me," Irene replied. 

"You knew," Sherlock said, surprised.

"I did," Irene replied.

"You knew I was here to investigate all along," he said, "so why did you-"

"Of course I knew," Irene replied, smile dazzling. "I was the one who hired you."

"I know who the embezzler is," Sherlock said, trying to shake his confusion.

Over the next few minutes he explained exactly how Irene's second oldest employee had been ruining the company. John stood at his side, completely mesmerised, spitting out 'brilliant's and 'amazing's at every turn. Sherlock could feel a blush coming to his cheeks and tried not to look John in the eye for fear of it worsening.

After Sherlock had finished the explanation Irene had John leave the room and paid Sherlock his sum. It was then that Sherlock felt suddenly adrift. He spotted John sitting at the bar and went to join him.

"I'm afraid I won't be seeing you again," Sherlock said, picking at a paper napkin. 

"What?" John asked, looking over with furrowed brows.

"As you can tell, I was here for a job. I would continue, but the member fee is a little-" Sherlock tried.

"Exorbitant?" John asked, smiling sadly.

"Yes," Sherlock agreed.

"Richard," John said, for once speaking the name that was on Sherlock's paperwork.

"It's Sherlock, actually."

"Sherlock, then," John said. "Promise me something."

"Anything," Sherlock said, and even to himself it sounded a bit breathless.

"Be kind to yourself," John said. "You deserve it."

Sherlock nodded, looking somewhat defeated, and stood to leave. 

He was out the door and trying to hail a cab when John bursted onto the street behind him, cheeks red as he pulled his jacket on.

"John?" Sherlock asked just as a cab pulled up.

"I thought you might need some company," John said, catching up and smiling crookedly. 

"Company?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, someone to keep you from being too hard on yourself," John added.

Sherlock smiled softly and opened the door of the cab. "Dinner?"

"Starving." John chuckled and got in.


	2. I Coulda Slept Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, here's the second half you've been waiting for. As for what happens near the end, don't try this at home (or a fish and chips shop).

"So I take it you're some sort of genius," John said as they sat eating Chinese food in a small restaurant.

Sherlock shrugged and took a sip of his tea.

"Oh, now you're shy. Just last week you were insisting I wouldn't drink because my family are drunkards. How did you know that anyway?" John asked, smiling at Sherlock the way he always did when Sherlock wasn't looking.

Sherlock took a deep breath and accidentally explained, sure that once he did John would be less enthusiastic about his gift. "It was the seltzer and your mobile. The note engraved on the back suggests it's a hand-me-down. People only give family such expensive things as a mobile. There are scuffs on the bottom where it is connected for charging. Not one, but many, suggesting repeated fumbling. You never see that on a sober man's phone, never see a drunks without it."

John shook his head, beaming. "Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. And you got all that from my mobile."

Sherlock looked at him, brows furrowing, before smiling crookedly. "That's not what people usually say."

"And what do people usually say?" John asked leaning with his elbows on the table and licking his lips.

"Shut your gob," Sherlock said, looking down and giggling into his meal.

John chuckled and sat back. "See? I knew there was something about you."

Sherlock glanced up, surprised, and John swallowed roughly at showing such emotion and looked away.

_____

At the end of the night they stood on the kerb fidgeting. John was the first to speak.

"I'd like to, uh, get to know you."

Sherlock looked over and chewed his lip.

"As something more than a client," John explained. "You'll have to tell me if I'm crossing a line...although I suppose I already have."

Sherlock watched John laugh nervously, a side of the man he'd never seen, and pulled his mobile from his jacket pocket. He handed it over and smiled.

"Put your number in."

John grinned and fiddled with the phone for a second before Sherlock laughed and took it back, having John read it off to him.

"Not that good with technology," John said just as a cab pulled up.

"Oh, John," Sherlock sighed, eyes soft. "How on earth did you ever survive without me?"

John felt like his heart might just beat out of his chest and tried to breathe through it as Sherlock opened the cab door for him.

Sherlock waited for John to climb in before bending over to say one last thing. "Goodbye, John."

John licked his lips and nodded. "Talk to you soon, yeah?"

_____

It took a week for Sherlock to finally get up the nerve to invite John back to his place, a week in which they saw each other every day. He had a nagging feeling that John might think he was trying to get what they had at the club for free. 

Every time he was with John, though, he felt an intense pull. It was more than simple arousal, it was a need to get closer. He wanted to kiss John, wanted to hold him, wanted to wake up next to him. It was beyond frightening.

When he finally had John in his flat, eating takeaway and watching some crap movie, he felt frozen in place. He wanted to reach out and touch John but he simply couldn't.

"You alright?" John asked, pausing with his fork in front of his mouth.

"Mmm," Sherlock said, unable to find words.

John watched him as he ate, sure the man was lying to him. He could tell when Sherlock was nervous, could see it in the stiffness of his shoulders. He worried it was because they hadn't had a scene together in a week. Maybe that was how Sherlock was without that kind of release.

He chewed slowly and tried to suss out the situation. He liked Sherlock. He really liked him. He'd always been attracted to Sherlock, and a little protective of him, but there was something else. When he saw Sherlock do that deduction thing for the first time he'd wanted to kiss him on the mouth. 

Oh, bloody hell, he'd have to just make a move or die in the process of waiting.

"It's late," he said, taking a long sip of his tea.

Sherlock looked up with actual fear in his eyes, the poor bastard. "You have to leave?"

John smiled and rested his hand on Sherlock's knee. "That's not what I said. Of course, if you want me to-"

John was cut off by Sherlock nearly pouncing on him. He didn't kiss him right away, instead running his fingers through John's hair and looking at his face like he'd never seen it before. John chewed on his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"You want to stay," Sherlock said, pushing John's head to the side so he could look at his neck.

"Y-yes," John stuttered.

"Why do you want to stay?" Sherlock asked, breath hitching as John rested his hands on his hips.

"I like you," John replied. "Quite a bit, actually."

"Not just as my...well, you used to be my..." Sherlock tried, his fear spilling out of his mouth.

John wriggled in his seat. "I want to date you. I want to..."

"Yes, yes, wait, really?" Sherlock sputtered.

"Can I kiss you?" John asked, hands drifting up to Sherlock's back.

"On the lips," Sherlock said, seemingly stunned.

John smiled at him and nodded. "Yes. On the lips."

"I haven't been kissed on the lips in...ages," Sherlock replied.

"Well, want to have it another go?" John asked, thoroughly charmed by the man.

"Yes," Sherlock whispered. "Yes, I think I would."

John leaned forward and pressed their lips together. It was gentle at first, but as Sherlock melted against him he opened his mouth and it became more heated. 

"John," Sherlock murmured between kisses.

John licked into his mouth and sucked on his tongue and Sherlock shivered in his arms, slowly moving into John's lap.

"God, you really are gorgeous," John panted, pulling Sherlock closer and rolling his hips.

"Would you take me to bed?" Sherlock asked, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed.

John smiled and took Sherlock's hand. "Of course. Come on, up with you."

Sherlock led John to his bedroom and stood at the end of the bed nervously.

"Don't worry," John said, unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt, "I've got you."

Sherlock let himself be stripped and then watched as John did the same. It was the first time he'd seen John completely bare and his hips swayed at the sight of John's cock. It was larger than average, thick and uncut, rising from a patch of dark blond hair and turning ruddy in colour.

John stepped forward and sealed their lips together again, hissing with arousal as the head of his cock pressed against the base of Sherlock's. He rolled his hips experimentally and rested his head against Sherlock's chest.

When he'd caught his breath he looked up. "Tell me what you want."

Sherlock shook his head slightly and licked his lips. "Tonight you get what you want."

John threaded his fingers through Sherlock's hair and pulled him back down for a kiss before pressing him back onto the bed. He climbed on top of Sherlock and gripped one of his hands, bringing it to his lips and kissing it all over. Sherlock sighed as John sucked on the tip of each finger before kissing the inside of his wrist.

"Have you got condoms?" John asked, taking Sherlock's other hand in his and kissing his knuckles.

"Bedside table," Sherlock whimpered.

John reached over and pulled out two along with a bottle of lube. He set them next to Sherlock on the bed and moved down to kiss his chest.

"Would it be alright if we had penetrative sex?" he asked, knowing that having something up your bum in a scene and having sex with someone were entirely different for some people. "I usually top."

"God, yes," Sherlock said, hips lifting of their own accord.

During everything they'd done at the club Sherlock had never cursed, not even the colloquialistic taking of the lord's name in vain. John breathed through his nose and licked Sherlock's nipples. He wanted this man, oh, how he wanted him.

Sherlock whined while John managed to kiss nearly every inch of him, dragging his lips first over Sherlock's front (and ticklish sides) before flipping him over and doing the same to his back and buttocks. Sherlock shivered when John slicked up his fingers and rubbed down the crease between his cheeks and to his arsehole.

"We'll start slow," John said, simply rubbing and pressing with his forefinger.

"Slow is for amateurs," Sherlock huffed, trying to push back hard enough for John's finger to slip in. "You know you don't have to be gentle, John."

"Oh, bit of cheek, yeah?" John teased, pulling his hand back and spanking Sherlock with it.

"Fucking finally," Sherlock groaned.

John laughed and pressed his finger in all the way in one go. "I think I prefer the talkative you."

"Well, if you'll hurry up I'll promise to complain more," Sherlock said, arching his back as electricity seemed to flow through him.

John chuckled again and shook his head, overcome with affection. Who knew that given the chance Sherlock would be a pushy bottom?

After what felt to Sherlock like hours of preparation John urged him to turn over and tore open the condom wrapper. He gripped Sherlock's cock at the base and situated it over the head before rolling it down with his mouth. Sherlock just about choked to death.

"Alright, gorgeous," John said, putting his own condom on and pressing against Sherlock's loose hole.

"Please, God, please," Sherlock whined.

John thrust forward slowly and was soon fully seated, head resting on Sherlock's shoulder as he tried not to come immediately at the tight heat. In all honesty he hadn't managed to get laid in nearly four months. His work hours didn't allow him many nights off and the last two people he'd tried to chat up had backed off once he'd explained what he did for a living. He was on the verge of lying about it.

Now he was buried in a tight arse and he was seeing bloody stars.

Instead of complaining about John stopping Sherlock found John's hand and threaded their fingers together. John sighed and looked up, smiling at him, and rolled his hips.

"You feel good," he said, hiccuping as Sherlock tightened around him in response.

Sherlock wrapped his legs around John's waist and was mercifully treated to a rough thrust. He groaned as John started up a swift rhythm.

"Get tight for me again," John said, reaching his free hand up to take a fistful of Sherlock's hair.

When Sherlock did John closed his eyes and sealed their mouths together in a sloppy kiss.

It didn't take long for John to come, the constricting heat of Sherlock's body pushing him closer until he couldn't hold it off. He pulled off and let go of Sherlock's hair to slide down the bed and take his cock in his mouth.

"John!" Sherlock cried as John sucked and bobbed his head and pinched Sherlock's hip with bruising force. Then he was coming, body arching off the bed and cock nearly choking John.

When John finally let his prick go it had been several minutes and it was soft in his mouth. Sherlock sighed and stretched out on the bed like a starfish.

"Thought you'd never let go of my cock," Sherlock said with a teasing grin.

"Mmm," John replied, getting up to grab a wet flannel from the en suite. "Coulda slept that way."

_____

John eventually moved in two months later and gave up his day job to run around London with his genius boyfriend. His boss understood completely and let him come back on an irregular schedule whenever they needed the money. It wasn't often. Sherlock really was a genius and soon enough they were close to famous, at least in London.

It was three years later, at a small fish and chips place, that Sherlock ran into a face from the past. 

They'd walked in and Sherlock had stopped in his tracks when he saw who was in line. John saw this happen and his hackles rose immediately. Even if he hadn't known Sherlock as well as he did, he would have noticed something was off.

Sherlock took a deep breath, jaw clenching, and walked forward just at the man looked over his shoulder.

"Well, look here," the man said, "Sherlock Holmes. How long has it been?"

"Years," Sherlock said sternly.

"And you must be Dr Watson," the man said sticking his hand out. "I'm Victor. Sherlock and I used to know each other."

John refused to take his hand.

"We didn't know each other," Sherlock said, defensively. "We dated."

Victor's smile turned teasing and he raised his eyebrows. "Well, I took pity on you but we never really dated, Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes grew wide and he shrunk back.

"That's you," John said, stepping between the two men and motioning to the server waiting to take his order.

Victor turned and walked forward and John took Sherlock's hand in his. Sherlock was visibly shaking.

"Don't listen to that bastard," John whispered roughly. "You're safe and he's pathetic."

Sherlock nodded once and John stared daggers at Victor's back. When Victor went towards the loo after ordering John let Sherlock's hand go.

"You know what I like, love," John said kissing Sherlock on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

Sherlock watched him walk away and ordered just as John turned the corner.

John waited outside the door until he heard the toilet flush and the water turn on and then entered the bathroom. Victor was washing his hands in the basin and smiled like a snake when he looked up.

"Look," Victor said, turning the tap off and resting his hands on the edge of the sink. "I get that you're jealous but it's actually quite rude not to shake someone's-"

John kicked his knee from the side and heard the crack when Victor crumpled forward and broke his nose on the basin.

"You've broken my leg!" Victor exclaimed as he pressed a hand against his heavily bleeding nose. "And my nose!"

John took a calm step forward and gripped his hair. "You made a man as amazing as Sherlock Holmes feel useless and then insinuated it was out of pity. I reckon you got off easy. Show your face around us again and you'll regret it." He let go of Victor and turned before stilling. "And if you're thinking about being smart, you should know my best mate is a DI with Scotland Yard."

He walked out of the loo and went to the front of the line, leaning in and saying something to the server. Sherlock couldn't make it out but he thought John said something about an accident.

John nodded and they took their food to go.

_____

They were married the next summer, John in his dress clothes and Sherlock in a stunning dove grey tux. 

Sherlock never really got over what had transpired between him and Victor but with John's love he managed to accept it as the past, knowing he would never suffer at anyone's hand again. Not with John Watson at his side.


End file.
